The Fall of Senntisten
by Connor Asfadjnis
Summary: The God Wars have raged for millennia, and still the proud city of Senntisten, former capital of the Zarosian Empire, stands tall. However, as its enemies plot to bring it down and the Ritual looms, can those loyal to Zaros defend it for much longer?
1. Chapter 1

_Samuel rushed down the hill with the stamina that could only be attributed to his twelve summers of age, not bothering to mind his feet even on the more treacherous parts. His cheeks were flushed from a strange combination of fear and exhilaration. Behind him was Lysah, whooping with laughter and not bothering to hide her excitement. Keroh lagged behind, his expression guarded and cautious. He made his way down the hill slowly, taking care to avoid the steeper areas most other children would tumble down._

_Ahead of them lay the statue. Time alone had not worn it down; half the head had been sheared off, and several fingers were missing as well. What had once been a quarterstaff had pieces missing from both ends, and the sword in the other hand would never be useful for anything other than blunt trauma if it were a weapon. _

_Finally Samuel reached the bottom of the hill, where the statue itself lay. Lysah followed, slowing to a trot by the time she reached the bottom. _

"_I told you the Gods were here," Samuel said. _

"_It looks like he's wearing a skirt," Lysah giggled. _

"_It's not a skirt, it's a robe," Samuel said, scowling. "Like the ones wizards wear."_

"_Fine." Lysah rolled her eyes, though it sounded as though she still wanted to laugh. "It's a _robe_."_

_Samuel didn't respond. Keroh at last reached the two, and of the three he was the only one who was not panting. "What do you think it is, Keroh?" Samuel asked._

"_No God'd let his statue get damaged like this," Keroh said. "Maybe it's just a mortal."_

"_The Gods all left after the War," Lysah pointed out. "They wouldn't be able to do anything about their statues."_

"_Saradomin stayed," responded Keroh with a sulk, such as he always had when the subject of religion came up. _

"_Oh grow up," Samuel began, irritated. "He left like all the others. 'Cept for Guthix, because he's the one who banished all the rest."_

_Keroh scowled, but before he and Samuel could get into an argument, Lysah interrupted them. "So who do you suppose it is?" she asked, staring up at the statue's mutilated face. Already cracks had begun to run through its nose and one remaining eye. _

"_Could be Bandos," Samuel suggested. "This guy looks warlike."_

"_Bandos is like an ogre, stupid," Keroh said. "He'd never take the form of a human, no way."_

"_Maybe it's not a God," Lysah said. _

"_That's what I was saying," Keroh said. _

"'_Course it's a God," Samuel said. "'Ent anyway there'd be mortals getting their own statues during the War. My mum says the Gods never thought of us as anything more than tools."_

"_Your mum's wrong," Keroh replied. "Saradomin always cared about mortals, and Armadyl left the world because the Avia-" He paused, looking for the word. "Aviansie died."_

"_I heard it that Armadyl left because he was tired of the war," Lysah said. "Some'd tell you that there's still Aviansie a long ways west."_

"_Those're just tall tales. The same people would tell you about that great, three headed black dragon way up north." Here Keroh paused again, leaping from thought to thought as only a child can. "Maybe the statue is of Armadyl."_

"_Nah," Samuel said. "Same problem. Armadyl is like a bird."_

"_Uh-uh," Lysah responded. "All the pictures of Armadyl have him as a human."_

"_That's 'cause it was only humans who drew them," Keroh said. _

_Samuel took another look at the structure. "Zamorak," he suggested. _

_Keroh shuddered. "We'd feel his unholy power from here."_

"_Nonsense," Lysah scowled. "It's just stone." She too looked at the statue. "It's probably not him, anyway. He looks like a demon."_

"_I just-"_

"_Said humans drew Armadyl, I know. But demons can draw. 'Sides, more people saw him during the War."_

_They stared at the statue for a while longer. "I'm going to touch it," Samuel announced suddenly, with all the import of a wise man passing down arcane knowledge, or of a soldier marching to war. His eyes roamed across the rock with a sudden lust for exploration and, perhaps, danger. _

"_You're insane," Keroh muttered without conviction. _

"_Mayhap," Samuel responded, and started towards the figure. Keroh looked at Lysah, but she just shrugged. _

_As Samuel reached the statue, he sensed the other two children at his back. They, seemingly unconsciously, spread in a semi-circle about the figure. The stone did not change, but to the three children it seemed to become more menacing than it had been before. They looked at each other, and by some unspoken pact touched the statue at the same time._

_To Samuel, the stone- at least the part available to him- was smooth and warm. He did not know what it felt like to the others, but Keroh screwed up his face when he laid his hand on it, and Lysah looked as though she were focused on trying to remember something very important._

_Keroh abruptly knelt to the ground. Samuel followed his gaze to what looked like a placard on the statue. _

"_What does it say?" Lysah asked. _

"_Dunno. I'll have to clear it."_

_Samuel knelt to help him. The placard was not large, but the dust and grime was older than any of the children, older, perhaps, than any of them could visualize. In the end, they could only unveil parts of the message. _

"_What does it say?" Keroh asked. Samuel murmured under his breath. _

_Lysah seemed to understand what he said. "I can read," she offered kindly. Cheeks red, Samuel stepped aside to let her crouch by the statue. Keroh seemed to find something in the grass very interesting when Lysah reached to touch Samuel's hand slightly longer than she needed to and smiled. _

_As she took Samuel's spot by the statue, she narrowed her eyes at the incomplete script. "This is all you got out of it?"_

"_It's old," Keroh said defensively. _

_Lysah sighed. "Fine. I can still read it." She cleared her throat dramatically and spoke in a grand, uplifting tone of voice. "In the early ages, Tumeken did come to this world of RuneScape…"_

"_What?" asked Keroh. "Is that what it says?"_

"_No," Lysah said. "Didn't you ever read Tumeken's Dream?"_

"_No one's read Tumeken's Dream," Keroh said, scowling._

"_My mum read it to me when I was little," Samuel said. _

"_Fine," Keroh said. "I think you two are the only ones."_

"_Not true," Lysah said. "In Avarrocka they have great libraries, with books the size of _this_." Here she held her arms out, hands enclosing a space of about half a meter. _

"_There's no way," Samuel scoffed. "No one could read that."_

"_Just like no one is reading the statue," Keroh said, irritated._

"_Oh, fine," Lysah grumbled. "Just a joke." Keroh glared. _

_She cleared her throat again. "Here lies, in memory of the Mah…jer…aht? who fell in defense of- it stops here, and starts again here- blessed in Zaros' name be they-"_

"_Don't say that name!" Keroh cried out, stricken. Samuel looked pale. _

"_You two are babies," Lysah said. "It's just a name."_

"_Everyone says-"_

"_Saying his name won't bring him back."_

"_Just please don't say it, OK?" Samuel this time. "It's bad luck."_

_Lysah looked at him. "OK, fine," she huffed. "I won't say it. Blessed in _his _name be they, the blood of Senntisten in their veins. And now it says the quote is from some bloke named Ali the Wise."_

"_That sounds like a Kharidian name," Keroh said. "What's a hump-back doing way up here?"_

"_My mum says not to call them that," Samuel said. "She says it's… demeaning."_

"_Would you shut up about your mum?" Keroh snapped. "Gods, you'd think you'd have proposed by now."_

_Samuel's face heated up and he looked ready to start yelling before Lysah interrupted. "What's a Mahjarrat?" she asked, though it may have been equally to defuse the tension as to actually find out. _

"_I heard they were powerful necromancers," Samuel said, still sounding slightly sulky. "They're one step below Gods, too."_

"_Didn't one attack Avarrocka a few years back?" Keroh asked._

"_Dunno," Samuel said. "No news from there reaches us."_

"_Must be powerful to be able to attack a city all by himself," Lysah said. _

"_Oh, they are," Samuel said. "Some can raise armies of skeletons and the like, and some can take out a thousand people just by waving their hands."_

"_That can't be true," Keroh said. _

_Samuel just shrugged. "Whatever they are, you don't want to cross one."_

_There was silence as the children gazed at the statue. They did not, and perhaps would not ever, know the full significance of what they were looking at, but they were drawn to it somehow, in some way they could not know. _

"_What's this?" Keroh asked suddenly, kneeling once again to get a closer look at a strange symbol inscribed into the stone._

_As the others leaned in to see, Keroh swiped as much dirt as he could from the symbol engraved into the stone. It was placed just adjacent to the name _Ali the Wise.

"_What is it?" Samuel asked, voice hushed. _

"_Some kind of… snake, or something," Keroh answered. _

"_It's like the snakes up north," Lysah whispered. "It has the pattern on the back and everything."_

_The symbol was a coiled, serpentine figure, head resting in the center and the body radiating outward in a perfect circle. _

"_That's weird," Samuel said. "I've never seen any God symbol like that."_

"_I don't think it is a God symbol," Lysah said. "I've never seen any like it before."_

_Samuel wondered at the thought of there being some undiscovered God out there, dead, or alive, even, and shuddered. _

_Keroh looked to the sky. "It's getting late," he said, covering his eyes. "Maybe we should head back."_

"_I guess," Samuel said, not yet totally willing to leave. Lysah sighed. _

"_Fine. Tomorrow, maybe?" she asked. _

"_What, coming back here?" Keroh asked, surprised. _

"_Yeah, sure."_

_Keroh seemed to struggle for words, perhaps trying to find a valid way to avoid coming back, but merely said, "OK."_

_As the children began to depart the statue, another figure emerged from the trees._

_He was an older man, at least by appearance, and he wore a wide-brimmed hat that obscured most of his face. He watched the children climbing the hill, waiting for them to go out of sight. _

_Finally they did, and he proceeded towards the statue they had just left. He carried a staff but did not lean on it too heavily. He knelt by the statue. _

"_Reple me nervis hostium," he whispered, barely audible even if anyone had been around to hear it. He stood once, turned, and disappeared once more into the forest. No one saw the jet-black bird wheel from the canopy, and if they did, no one would think any more of it. _

_The world was silent once more, and talk of Gods was once again stilled. _

**Oh. Hey!**

**So, this is a new venture of mine. It'll involve Mahjarrat, Rituals, and God Wars. The main plotline will be of the forces that led to the eventual fall of Senntisten, as well as the 13****th**** Ritual of Rejuvenation, or at least the preparations for it. **

**This is just the prologue, and I hope the first chapter will be out sometime this week. Fingers crossed. Also, I'm sort of unfamiliar with the sort of story length I'm planning for this one, so be patient with any slowness, but I'm planning on keeping up :)**

**Have an awesome day!**

**P.S. I'm not totally happy with the way this chapter went. Maybe I'm paranoid, but… I don't know. If my suspicions are correct and you find this chapter not to be as good, wait until the next to judge it totally.**


	2. Chapter 2

Wahisietel found Sliske (or rather, Sliske found him, because nobody ever finds Sliske) by what once was the Great Temple of Zaros in the Lower District of Senntisten. Humans thronged around him, heading home with the promise of rain on the horizon. Sliske was glaring tragically into the crowd, obviously discomforted by having to remain in the open for so long. Wahisietel, in the guise of a pale-skinned man of Forinthry, smiled. It was nice to see Sliske discomforted by anything. It didn't happen often.

"You kept me waiting long enough," Sliske remarked when Wahisietel approached, his tone neutral. "I was beginning to think you wouldn't come."

"Yes, well, I was beginning to you think you'd blown me off entirely," Wahisietel said. "Even when you're just standing there you're hard to find. I'll also thank you for your cryptic note, as well. If you hadn't specified which Great Temple you were talking about, it would have been significantly more difficult for me to track you down, but thank goodness you were considerate enough to make my job easier."

The note in question was delivered by a harried-looking courier just an hour previously with the following words on it: _Great Temple of Zaros. Come alone. Make it snappy. XOXO Sliske. _

"You're welcome," Sliske said. "Also, don't be sarcastic. It does not suit you."

Wahisietel huffed as he ran his hand through his hair, a nervous tic that surfaced whenever he took the form of a human. "So, why did you call me?"

"Oh," said Sliske. "This and that."

"Helpful," said Wahisietel.

"_Sarcasm_," Sliske hummed, with a distinctly sarcastic note to his voice. "If you must know more, I have come across some… information that may be of use to you and Dagroda. Or rather, someone who does possess this information."

"Information?" Wahisietel asked.

"Yes, information."

"Concerning what?"

"Not here," Sliske said simply. "Follow me." He turned to lead Wahisietel away, his black cloak sweeping almost comically behind him. Wahisietel frowned and hastened after him, the older Mahjarrat's pace more suited to jogging than running.

"Can you tell me where we're going, at least?" Wahisietel asked. Sliske glanced backwards only momentarily. Wahisietel could swear he grinned at him.

They made their way through the city as the clouds on the horizon grew closer. The people began to vanish from the street in greater numbers into their homes, while others quickened their pace and glanced nervously at the sky.

Wahisietel noticed the dwellings of the humans becoming more run-down and ramshackle as the two Mahjarrat moved further north. While he had never seen humans owning anything like the more opulent mansions of the Upper District, the "houses" he saw in this part of the city were barely adequate during fair weather; the driving rain that often plagued Senntisten during the summer would tear them apart. Indeed, they looked as though they had been rebuilt multiple times, and shoddily at that.

Abruptly Sliske halted, putting his hand, palm facing outward, into the air. "Wait," he said unnecessarily, and vanished. In his place was a jet-black bird, cawing shrilly at Wahisietel's feet. The Mahjarrat blinked. He had never known Sliske to be this incautious about transforming when humans were around.

The bird took off into the sky. Wahisietel did as told and stayed put, shielding his eyes as he tried to follow the bird's movements in the sky. It circled lazily about the sky. Wahisietel half-expected it to try and drop its stool on his head. It would be a very Sliske thing to do when he had the opportunity.

The bird finally returned to the ground, assuming the shape of a man again almost before it had touched down. "So, what was the point of that?" Wahisietel asked irritably.

"Making sure we're in the right place," Sliske said gruffly.

Wahisietel narrowed his eyes. "I've never known you to be this serious about anything before. I know something's off when you don't even _try _any funny business in bird form."

"Serious?" Sliske replied. "I'm always serious. It's the rest of you that's acting silly. Squatting on this patch of land like worried hens, going on about war and walls and ideology and fighting for gods that don't give a muspah's spitball about their own beliefs anymore." He grimaced. "Believe it or not, I'm the only sane one here."

All of a sudden, they heard a bell ring.

"There's no bell here," Wahisietel said, frowning.

"No," Sliske agreed. "That would be our signal. Come along now, it's rude to keep our hosts waiting."

…

A dark alleyway was not where Wahisietel would have guessed Sliske was taking him, but nonetheless he found himself picking his way through the darkness behind a building long since started to crumble. Occasionally light would shine through a broken wall and dazzle Wahisietel's eyes.

Once again he cursed human eyesight. "Who are we meeting with?" he asked again, this time to confirm if he would be safe assuming his true form.

"You'll find out," Sliske said. "I assure you, however, this will be worth your oh-so-important time."

"I am one of the few remaining Mahjarrat," Wahisietel said. "I have a crucial role in defending the city of Senntisten and its people. I am at the right hand of the Priest-King Dagroda and am champion to what remains of the Zarosian Empire." His voice rose. "So yes, I would say that my time is _very _important!"

"Shut up," Sliske hissed.

"I will not-" Wahisietel began, before Sliske's gloved hand clapped over his mouth.

"Can't you hear it?" the older Mahjarrat asked.

"'Err ut?"

For a moment all was still. Sliske scanned the shadows, hand remaining on his brother's mouth. Wahisietel didn't dare say anything, because now he could hear it too.

It was a low, throaty growl, that of something colossal and dangerous. Wahisietel strained to see it, but once again his human eyes betrayed him.

The two Mahjarrat took a step backwards. "Brother," Wahisietel whispered, "I think perhaps we came to the wrong place."

"No," Sliske said. "I think we're exactly where we're supposed to be."

All of a sudden, a shape erupted from the darkness. Wahisietel let out an involuntary yell as the bright red skin of a hellhound caught the light. It snarled at them and assumed a fighting position.

Sliske smiled. "Wisakedjak, your disguises are becoming poorer."

The hellhound paused, and then twisted its jowls upward in a parody of a smile. In an instant, a Mahjarrat clothed in faded blue appeared in its place. Its face, marked with sigils of the same color, maintained its grin.

"I still think you're cheating, Sliske," Wisakedjak said. He nodded to Wahisietel, his grin slipping away. "Wahisietel."

"Wisakedjak," Wahisietel replied. "It is good to see you again."

"And you," he said. Wisakedjak's grin returned. "I'm glad you two showed up. There've been some… developments."

"As I've been told," Sliske said, and Wahisietel realized that Sliske didn't actually know what was going on, either.

"This way," Wisakedjak said, and disappeared into the darkness again, Wahisietel and Sliske in tow.

…

"What is the situation outside, Sliske?" Wisakedjak asked as they made their way through the alleyways. Wahisietel turned his head to pay attention. There was safety inside Senntisten, but beyond those walls…

"Ullek has fallen," Sliske said. "Balfrug Kreeyath and his forces took it easily. The Kharidian region itself is… suffering."

"Indeed? In what way?" Wisakedjek seemed almost excited to hear the answer, Wahisietel noted with dismay.

"Many more cities than Ullek have been destroyed by Zamorak," Sliske replied. "The desert itself is expanding as woodland is destroyed for fodder by both armies. Drakan, vampyre lord and psychopath extraordinaire, has established his own foothold there, as well."

"What of Azzanadra and Akthanakos?" Wahisietel asked.

"Still not found," Sliske said. He hesitated for a moment. "Dagroda has informed me recently that all efforts to find them will be suspended until the end of the war."

"The end of the war," Wisakedjak snorted. "As though this war will ever end."

They walked in silence for a while longer.

"Are you the informant Sliske mentioned?" Wahisietel asked.

"No," Wisakedjak said. "I am taking you to her."

"Oh" was all Wahisietel could say.

"Where did you find her?" Sliske asked.

Wisakedjak snorted. "_She _found _me_. She is- or was, I suppose- a Saradominist. It's not that surprising, I suppose. Soldiers from both sides defect all the time. I suspect this one left after Saradomin lost Silvarea again." He waved his hand in the air. "Not that it's important now."

Finally the group reached its destination, or at least so Wahisietel surmised from Wisakedjak's abrupt stop. Sliske caught his eye and grinned. The low light made it seem sinister.

"Just stay behind me," Wisakedjak whispered, "and look as though you're competent."

"At least one of us will be able to do our job," Wahisietel said.

"Indeed," Sliske replied, and Wahisietel had the distinct feeling that he'd shot himself in the hand.

Wisakedjak held up his fist for silence. "From dust we come forth," he said loudly, and it took Wahisietel a moment to realize that he was talking in the High Tongue of old.

"…And unto dust we will return," came the answer in the same language. From the darkness came a loud rustling noise, and then footsteps. Wahisietel heard a low hiss of indrawn breath when the figure emerged that might well have been him.

At one point, she may have been considered beautiful. Wahisietel supposed she still was, in a way, but she had been robbed of the splendor and opulence of her prior position. She was clad in ill-fitting robes, obviously meant for a Mahjarrat or one of similar stature. Her face was downcast but fierce.

That was not what had drawn Wahisietel's eye, however. It was the white wings that hovered behind her, one at a painful-looking angle.

"An Icyene," Sliske said, seemingly unconcerned with the latest turn of events.

"An Icyene," Wisakedjak confirmed. "Goes by the name of Alifanta, though I of course doubt the veracity of that claim."

Abruptly Alifanta drew herself up higher, gaining back a fraction of what she once must have been. "Whether or not that is my birth name is not your business, Mahjarrat," she said hoarsely. "Have you told Dagroda my terms?"

"Yes," Wisakedjak said, "and he has come up with a bargain that I find myself one hundred percent behind; you will get your asylum after you tell us what you know. Unless we don't find your information useful, in which case we'll throw you back to Saradomin with a nicely worded letter of explanation."

Alifanta glowered, but she was obviously past the point of being able to risk anything. After a moment, she nodded.

"Good," Wisakedjak said. "We're all friends here."

Wahisietel frowned. He could no longer contain his curiosity. "Why did you defect?" he asked.

"That's not important," Wisakedjak began, but Alifanta turned to Wahisietel.

"This is why," she said simply, and extended her left wing. Now, Wahisietel could see that it was worse than he had assumed it to be. The feathers were scraggly and simply missing in many places, and the bone was twisted and unusable. "I was wounded in battle. When you are wounded as severely as I am, you cannot fight. And if you cannot fight…" she trailed off and shrugged.

"They'd kill you?" Wahisietel asked, going cold despite himself.

"No," she said. "But they stop giving you what you need to live. It is as good as a death sentence these days, in the height of the war." She brushed her brilliant red hair out of her face. "On the other hand, they turn a blind eye to your activities, and so I came here."

"I hope you're writing all this down, Wahisietel," Wisakedjak said dryly. Alifanta did not reply, but she did not continue.

Sliske leaned forward. "Your information," he said.

"Yes," said Wisakedjak. "That is what you came here for after all."

Alifanta glared at them both. "I am under the impression that Senntisten is one of the last major Zarosian cities," she said.

The three Mahjarrat glanced at each other. "Yes," Wisakedjak said at last. "That is true."

Alifanta had a penchant for the dramatic, Wahisietel reflected. She leaned closer to say whatever it was she was going to say. The Mahjarrat involuntarily leaned in as well.

"Saradomin is planning an attack on Senntisten," Alifanta said, "and Zamorak is helping him."

There was a long silence.

Wisakedjak snorted, causing Wahisietel to startle. "Perhaps you are unaware of history, Alifanta," he said, "but Saradomin and Zamorak… don't like each other very much."

"They don't collaborate on anything," Sliske added, though he sounded less certain.

"They have done so in the past," Alifanta said.

"That was before they got so royally tangled up in that nonsense in Silvarea and Forinthry," Wisakedjak rejoined stiffly, no longer sounding quite so amused. "I cannot imagine that Saradomin could possibly hate Zaros more than Zamorak. Zamorak, perhaps, but Saradomin…"

"I myself was involved in the planning," Alifanta said angrily. "It is not a rumor amongst the infantry. Saradomin spends many nights with his generals, drawing plans for this very attack."

"You're insane."

"'Insane' is not even willing to consider the possibility of an attack that could destroy Senntisten forever," Alifanta replied.

Wisakedjak looked murderous for a moment before Sliske stepped forward. "Thank you," he said, and Wahisietel imagined he might sound sincere to someone who was not his brother. "You have been a great help."

"Yes, well," Alifanta said. "I did not do this out of the goodness of my heart."

Sliske smiled eerily. "Of course. We will talk to Dagroda about your asylum. In the meanwhile, you can stay in the palace. Wahisietel will show you where to go."

"I will?"

"Yes, you will," Sliske said. "I'm glad we're on the same page. Wisakedjak, we must talk." He took off into the sky, changing almost as he went. Wisakedjak followed soon after. Soon after it began to rain, and Wahisietel shivered as drops swam down his face incoherently. "Come on," he said. "The palace is a bit of a walk."

…

After Wahisietel left the crippled Icyene in the tower reserved for guests of the Priest-King, he walked for a while on the palace grounds.

The rain storm had abated only minutes earlier, and the ground was soft and moist. And every so often Wahisietel's boot would _squelch _into the ground.

On the eastern wall was an area of cracks and openings that Wahisietel liked to climb. He could just as easily fly to the top, or teleport, or anything of that sort, but he enjoyed the climb. There was something invigorating and innately human about it, as though, just for a moment, he could pretend he was not so old and had not seen so much.

It did not last, of course, but it helped.

He climbed it now, placing his foot precisely where it needed to be from muscle memory and heaving himself up by the tiniest of cracks. He had climbed up this wall so often that it was almost easy now, even without the aid of any magic. He smiled softly to himself. _Let's see Sliske do _this_._

Finally he pulled himself up onto the top of the wall. The city spread out before him, the luster of the Upper District now reflecting the moonlight as it did the suns during the day.

To his right was the Lower District. It was almost entirely dark, except where the pale light of the moon could reach. He wondered what the humans had done during that past rainstorm, if any of the feeble houses he had seen survived.

Abruptly he imagined all of it gone, wiped from the earth as Annakarl and the others had been. The Lower District in flames, the Upper being plundered and destroyed. The palace in a heap on the ground, or sporting the banner of Zamorak. He shuddered.

He had always thought of Senntisten as inviolate. An island, safe from the War that raged outside. Very soon, if Alifanta was telling the truth, that might not be true anymore.

After a while longer, he began the climb back to the ground.

**Heyyy. I know I said "this week" like a month ago, and I apologize, if there're people out there who actually do follow this story. Also, the phrase from last chapter, "reple me nervis hostium" means "fill me with the vigor of my enemies" and is also incidentally the words to the Ancient Curse Leech Energy, because a) I'm lazy and b) I don't really trust Google Translate. To be clear, the figure is not actually using Leech Energy, just repeating the phrase from the Hymnal.**

**Thanks for reading, everyone **


	3. Chapter 3

When Saleem ak-Menad was very young, his father had told him, with his customary spitting upon the ground that always reminded Saleem of an Ugthanki, that there were only two types of people in the world he could not trust; gods, and women.

"Both'll try to control you," he had said, "your lives, your destiny… and there ain't a damn thing you can do about it."

Of course, the latter part of that advice had probably come from his father's less-than-civil divorce from Saleem's mother and had been studiously disregarded ever since he had taken to the silk industry and found his most prominent customers to be women. Business was business, Saleem had always said, and people were people, and he was not inclined to think anything of anyone so long as they paid.

Gods, on the other hand…

Well. Gods were gods, and they _never _paid.

It was this philosophy he held in mind when Ullek fell and refugees flooded Sophanem. The survivors took to building quite quickly, making them an important fixture of Sophanem. Menaphite nativists refused to do business with the survivors, however (sorcerers, they called them, evidently referring to the clay Golems Ullek had used in its defense), leaving Saleem with a new crowd of customers used to luxury and the finer things in life and little to no competition.

Caught up in his newfound prosperity and considering moving to a house by the southern ocean, Saleem could not be blamed for thinking nothing in particular of one customer in particular, a conspicuously pregnant Menaphite woman who turned up at his shop one day.

"Do you have any red silk?" she rasped quietly. Saleem gave her his most generous smile.

"Of course, my lady," he said. "How much would you like?"

"Three square feet," she replied. "I only need it for a small project. You see, I am meeting a… friend later, and I want to look my best."

"Certainly," the merchant replied, cutting the cloth carefully. "Where is your friend?" he asked casually.

"Beyond the city wall, to the north," the woman replied, and then winced as though it was physically painful to surrender the location.

Saleem frowned, ceasing for a moment in his work. "The north?" he asked. "It is none of my business, but… there is a war going on."

"Yes," the woman acknowledged.

"Nobody is safe outside of these walls," Saleem said. "As far as I know, we are the last bastion of civilization in the world." He shivered upon saying these words; he knew it may well be true, but the thought still made him uneasy.

The woman merely smiled. "I appreciate your concern," she said. Saleem stared at her for a while longer before he remembered himself and returned to cutting the silk.

"As long as you're certain," he said nonchalantly, handing her the finished square.

"I am very sure," was her reply. After examining the cloth, she reached into her pocket and dropped several gold coins onto the table. Saleem leaned over the counter to examine them. The coins gleamed in the sunlight as though they were freshly minted.

"Have a nice…" Saleem began, before hearing the shop door close abruptly. Through the window, he could see the woman walking quickly down the street before she vanished from sight behind the wall.

"…day," he finished absurdly to the empty room. Shrugging, he gathered the coin. The woman had paid exactly, and as usual, he put his customer and her strange plans to go north out of his mind.

_Gods and women_, his father's shade reminded him, and for a strange moment Saleem felt as though he had not only been dealing with the latter.

…

Around Enakhra the air itself felt parched. She tried her best to ignore it and keep her eyes shut and her mind clear. She had taken to meditating in the past century, and so far it had kept her already fraying sanity from getting any worse. In the corner of the room, Akthanakos stood, watching her.

She had to stop calling him Akthanakos. It was just weird.

"I bet you miss this," she said out loud. "I bet you miss being able to just… do things. Meditate, or not meditate." She didn't know why she was talking to him, or even really what she was saying, but it was good to talk every now and then. If she didn't use her voice, or her mind, she would have wasted away a long time ago.

The bone guard did not react, simply blinked its beady eyes.

"Stop looking at me," she said. Akthanakos complied, turning silently around to face the wall.

For a few moments, she stared at his back. That was even weirder.

"Fine," she said. "Look at me." The bone guard swiveled around once again.

Enakhra closed her eyes again, and tried to clear her mind. She tried to calm herself by thinking of Zamorak, but stopped when thoughts of him had the exact opposite effect.

"Talk to me," she said. "Anything. I'd take even your stupid voice over… this."

The bone guard was silent. Enakhra felt her hands clench into fists.

"Talk to me!" she screamed, getting up onto unsteady legs. Darkness crept at the corner of her eyes before retreating. "I am your master, and you will _talk to me_!"

Akthanakos' small, expressionless eyes could not convey hatred, but she knew it was there, burning inside of him. For an instant she wished that she could free him, just so they could get into a proper fight. He had always been stronger than her, though, and would probably kill her, especially after she'd missed so many Rituals.

_No, I'm supposed to think of reasons why I _shouldn't _free him_.

Whatever would have happened, the deep, ancient noise of the temple doors opening stopped it. She froze as she heard it echoing through the narrow chambers. It was most definitely a Mahjarrat; she could not possibly mistake the power she felt coming from the visitor. Possibilities rushed through her mind in quick succession.

_Zemouregal? A Zarosian, come to finish me off and free Akthanakos? _

_Zamorak? _

Not Zamorak. It couldn't be Zamorak.

Unless it was.

"Follow me," she whispered to the bone guard.

…

Whoever Enakhra had expected, it was not this one.

"Enakhra?" Palkeera called, stumbling her way almost comically through the hallways. Enakhra hid in the shadows, a distance further into the temple. Enakhra almost laughed when she saw the crude Zamorakian symbol that had been sewn onto the breast of Palkeera's robes. "Akthanakos?"

The Mahjarrat was obviously pregnant, which did not truly surprise Enakhra. Of all of the female Mahjarrat, most long since passed into the void, she seemed the most likely to "settle down". If Enakhra was feeling cynical, and she usually was, she might speculate just how Zemouregal had gotten her to agree. If she was feeling bitter, and she was rarely not, she might suspect that no agreement had been necessary.

"I know you can hear me," Palkeera said. She leaned against the wall, breathing heavily. "Please answer me. I need your help."

Enakhra shook her head in astonishment. She had not said a word to Palkeera since the Second Age. She had always found the other Mahjarrat to be too bookish and plain, and suspected Palkeera knew that. Why would she come here? Enakhra wondered how best to expel her from the temple. She was too weak to attempt force, and she was terrible at persuasion by self-admission.

_Talk to her. See what she wants. Then send her on her way._ The voices in her head always had the best ideas.

With a deep breath, Enakhra committed herself to gods-knew-what and stepped from the darkness.

She kept her hood pulled up over her head, even though she knew Palkeera could see her well enough. A fire smoldered in her palm just bright enough to catch the other Mahjarrat's eye. She smiled, trying to go for the "psychopath with nothing to lose" angle and rather thought she had gotten it down pat.

"Thank the gods," Palkeera gasped, eyes fixed fearfully on Enakhra, but with a touch of hope in them, too. "I need your-"

"Help, I know," Enakhra responded.

Palkeera paused for a moment at this, then pressed on. "Where's Akthanakos?"

"Why?" Enakhra asked bitingly.

"I-" Palkeera looked pained. "I thought, since-" she swallowed. "Thought you two were…" She crossed her fingers hesitantly.

Enakhra spat upon the ground. "Him and I? Mother Mah, no!"

"Don't say that name!" Palkeera hissed. The hallway itself seemed to darken, though that could have been Enakhra's imagination. "I only thought, since you both have been here for a very long time…"

"Yes, I understand," Enakhra said. "There's no need to repeat that vile thought." She extinguished the flame with a clench of her fist and relaxed her stance slightly. "You should know my heart belongs only to Zamorak."

"Of course." Palkeera seemed to gain a new confidence. "I see you have noticed by my emblem I share your sentiment."

"I was unaware Saleem ak-Menad did religious symbols," Enakhra replied coolly.

Palkeera did not know how to respond.

"Look, Palkeera," Enakhra began.

"I'm pregnant," Palkeera blurted.

Enakhra raised an eyebrow. "Gosh, really? I would never have guessed. Tell me, is there some kind of war on? I've heard noises outside, you see."

Palkeera took a deep breath, eyes screwed shut. When she opened them, Enakhra could swear they were back in the Second Age, when she and Zamorak toured the empire looking for those he could trust to help him with his rebellion, and Palkeera had given her the same look and told her that she would never betray the Empty Lord. It was a look of pure fear, and full of the knowledge that Palkeera had nowhere else to go but where she was.

_I'm sorry, _the look said. _This is all I have. _

"I am wounded, Enakhra," Palkeera said. "A ripper demon, two fortnights ago. It caught me by the northern pass, and I managed to kill it, but not without… this." She lifted her robe around her leg, revealing a long, jagged scar running from her leg, up her thigh, and curling around her distended stomach.

"It's infected," Enakhra said dumbly. The skin around the wound was swollen and starkly red.

"I know," Palkeera said. "This is why I need your help."

Enakhra shook her head. "Palkeera, this is..." The word was difficult to say, even though she couldn't have cared less about what happened to Palkeera until now.

"Yes," Palkeera said simply. "My days on this world are numbered, and I need your help to ensure that my child's are not."

Enakhra noticed that she was still shaking her head. She let it slow to a halt. Carefully, she placed her hand on Palkeera's stomach, right where the scar carved its jagged path. She withdrew as though she had touched acid after a few moments.

"Your child will not survive," Enakhra said abruptly.

"He will if you help me," Palkeera replied.

"Why should I help you?" Enakhra felt like sitting down. Thousands of years of seclusion, and Palkeera thought she could draw her out with the promise of saving her wretched spawn? What did she care if they _all _died?

"The father abandoned us," Palkeera said, "and I think you know what it feels like to be abandoned as well."

Enakhra's anger rose. She had not seen Zamorak in millennia, but she was not about to let anyone slander his name. "I was not abandoned. I wasn't worthy. I made an error of judgement, and I am being rightfully punished for it. Once I am once again worthy Zamorak will come for me."

"Is that what he told you?" Palkeera asked gently.

Now the anger was personal. "Don't you talk to me as if I am a child. I know who I am, and I know what I want, and it is _not _to help _you_!"

In an instant, Enakhra was smoke. She turned-such as it was-and sped through the hallways. Her bone guard, or Akthanakos, or _whatever_, waiting just beyond the corner, got on all fours to follow her. She heard Palkeera call from behind her, but did not bother to listen.

Finally she reached the center of her temple. She assumed her natural form once again as she collapsed on to her knees, thoughts roiling.

She screamed, of anger, or sadness, or some undiscovered emotion that only she possessed. Her bone guard finally reached her, and stood at attention in its usual place.

How terribly she missed Freneskae. Life was simpler there, when the Mahjarrat could do as they pleased without being swept up into the wars of others. Their society had grown great under the constant fire and warfare. Here, however… here, Mahjarrat could expect others to help them just by asking. Here, they expected others to care, as if their stupid problems were hers.

The bone guard shifted, drawing Enakhra's wrathful attention to it. Oh, how she hated Akthanakos. He personified this world; slothful and indulgent, obediant and servile.

"This is _your _fault!" she yelled at it. "This-" her fists slammed into the ground, gouts of flame rising around them. "Is-" again, this time the flames rose higher. "All-" the flames gleamed in the dim light, and they were the color of Zamorak. "Your-" she felt herself growing faint as the flames consumed ever more power. The walls began to crack. "…fault." She finished wearily, realizing how much power her tantrum had taken up. Her knuckles felt bruised, but her sleeves were still intact.

"I hate you," she murmured, lying down almost involuntarily onto the sandy floor. "I will never stop hating you." Darkness tugged at the corner of her vision. "The day I stop hating you…" she whispered. The sentiment was never finished.

…

Enakhra opened her eyes. She was still on the floor, and the bone guard stood in its appointed position. It had not moved since she collapsed. _Fat lot of good you are, _she thought, irritated.

"Awake?" Palkeera asked, with a small smile on her face.

Enakhra struggled to her feet. Darkness threatened to overwhelm her, and she crashed to the floor, panting. "You should stay there for now," Palkeera said. "You consumed a lot of energy."

Enakhra stared at the ceiling, her chest rising and falling. "Why did you come back?" she asked weakly.

"You sounded like you were in trouble." Palkeera produced a small square piece of bread, which she handed to the other Mahjarrat. "It's not much, but it might help."

Enakhra ate, appraising her benefactor. For the first time, she noticed how Palkeera shivered when she inhaled, and how much paler she was when compared to herself.

"Who was it?" Enakhra asked, of the million questions in her head.

Palkeera just smiled sadly. "It doesn't matter now," she said.

"Why are you helping me?"

"I think I'd like you to live, whether you help me or not."

"Why?"

Palkeera laughed, but stopped and grimaced when it became too much. "Does there have to be a reason?"

Enakhra propped herself up on her elbows. "Of course there has to be a reason. You don't just… give up your bread and your time and whatever else when you'd be better served taking care of yourself."

Palkeera hesitated. "Would you die for Zamorak?" she asked.

"Of course," Enakhra replied instantly.

"Why?"

"I love him," Enakhra said heatedly.

"And I love my child," Palkeera said. "If I could, if I were allowed it, I would die a thousand deaths if it would make his life easier."

Enakhra searched for the words. Palkeera watched her attentively, seemingly somnolent. Enakhra knew better.

"I will help you," Enakhra said. "If you tell me one thing."

Palkeera did not speak, only continued to watch.

"You were so afraid when you came here," Enakhra said. "And now you're… calm. Even though you're about to die."

Palkeera considered for a moment. "I think the only reason I am calm is because I am about to die," she said. "The only moment where I was truly afraid was when I thought you were going to let my child die… and I know you are not so cruel."

"Try me," Enakhra said, and for a moment she was herself again, the imprisoner of Akthanakos and the former right hand of Zamorak before she shamed herself with useless acts of frivolity. "Where are we going?"

"The Ritual site," Palkeera said. "We have a long journey ahead of us."

Enakhra snapped her fingers, and the bone guard was at her side. "Can't lose sight of you," she told him. She turned to Palkeera. "I won't question our destination for now," she said, "but let me lodge my formal opinion that it is a very strange destination."

"Noted," Palkeera said. "I need you to trust me, at least at present."

"I don't," Enakhra said, "but I can give you the benefit of the doubt… at present."

Palkeera smiled. "Good enough. Can you get up on your own?"

"Of course," Enakhra said temperamentally, clinging to the bone guard and leaning on it perhaps more heavily than she needed to as she hauled herself to her feet. She felt slightly unsteady, but knew she could walk.

Palkeera nodded. Without another word, she turned and began to limp towards the exit, Enakhra and the bone guard ghosting silently in tow.

**Woo! Road trip!**

**Honestly, I love Enakhra. I think she's one of my favorite characters of the game, and she's up there with my favorite characters of all time. She's a very complex person, I think.**

**Anyway. Read and review? :3**


End file.
